Finding Strange Fortune
A Zeno the Stoic Adventure. Part 2.
2
304 B.C.
The two walked through the city-center streets of Athens. Zeno strode in wonder, his head a crooked swivel atop a crooked neck, taking in the endless barrage of temples, bars, brothels, theaters, schools, and a bath house his nose detected long prior to his eyes. Crates’ shuffling stride was constant, his aged but strong legs rippling as they pushed the earth behind him. His eyes scanned each alley, every gutter, always moving.
Fall was coming to a close and Winter approached, heralding Demeter's seasonal depression, as the Mediterranean braced for the temperature to drop to a frozen fifty degrees. That’s not Celsius. Nor is it Fahrenheit. Not for ancient Athenians. Neither of those measures existed in 304 B.C on the Attican peninsula. They didn’t do F or C. But it is balmy from the narrator’s perspective. Fifty degrees is pants off weather where he’s from, which does F all. But these little babies. These stupid, ancient babies got chilly. Ooooh. So chilly. Anyway.
“My name is Zeno,” Zeno offered from Crates’ right side. “What's yours?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Crates replied. “I thought I’d hit the Maimakteria later. The wife loves those things.”
“You’re married?!” Zeno was shocked. Crates wore only a cloak, his deranged pecker peeking out on occasion, betraying the absence of even underoos on the dirty commando. He wore no sandals and carried only a long staff. The idea a woman would let her man blunder about nearly naked was mildly obscene.
“Of course,” Crates scratched an armpit. “Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“That makes sense.”
Zeno tried again. “My name is Zeno.”
“I’m glad you asked,” Crates replied. “The Maimakteria is a festival where a bunch of girls dance, people play music, and we hope Zeus is too distracted by boobs to make the coming winter a living hell for his worshippers like he usually does.”
“Sounds fun! You have a cool religion. Mine is mostly killing babies for our war efforts.”
“Hippa loves it.”
“Your wife loves killing babies?”
“Hippa is great,” Crates’ eyes glazed a bit as he nodded absently and thought of her, walking as he talked. “She’s always confusing the academy kids with silly syllogisms and the fools don’t understand she’s just putting them on. Stick around and you can meet her.”
“I’d love to,” Zeno admitted aloud. He was curious.
“She'll be there whether you like it or not, you dweeb. Festival is this way.”
Zeno blinked in confusion but followed along, catching up to the hunchback and walking in silence on his left side. After a half hour, as the sun set, the air began to fill with music, mingling with the buzz of a thousand voices babbling excitement. Crates stopped for a moment before reaching the crowd. His eyes searched for something he never saw, considering a woman tackled him from behind and slammed his face on the dirt.
“Cratey!” She yelled as she flipped him onto his back and straddled him in the street. “You came!”
“Not so fast, Hippa,” he grinned. “Not this time, anyway. I took my pill.”
“Oh,” she grinned back. “I do enjoy those. Like mounting a rhinoceros with rigid opinions.” They both giggled like forty-year-old children.
Zeno blushed at the scene before even considering the conversation. These two were absolutely shameless, laying on top of each other in the street talking about screwing like whatever it was she said. She was dressed like her husband, only in a cloak and bare feet.
If a woman acted and dressed that way in Citium, there would be trouble. In fact, if a man acted that way in Citium, there would be trouble. Bad trouble, not that good trouble he’d heard about somewhere. Looking around the festival, he noted no one seemed to care but him. A few passers-by even laughed before moving on, shaking their heads. What an odd place he’d crashed into.
Hippa dismounted her homeless rhino and stood back, looking Zeno up and down as he offered Crates a hand up. “Nice grip,” Crates mused aloud. “You definitely need a wife.”
Zeno didn't know what that meant. He could take care of himself, after all.
“This is Hipparchia. My wife,” Crates announced with pride to a baffled Zeno.
“Yep,” Hipparchia purred, noticing Zeno's evergreen confusion. “Are you surprised? It gets better. This bridge troll shot me down five times before he agreed to marry me.”
Zeno blinked. Hipparchia was beautiful. Crates was… absolutely not. In fact, at that moment, the hideous hunchback had an index finger buried in a nostril. Zeno began, “With a face like that how in the…”
“Listen, whatever your name is,” Crates spoke around his finger.
“I’m Zeno of...”
“Hey,” Crates interrupted. “I don’t interrupt you. Don’t interrupt me.”
Zeno looked at Hippa, who just smiled and pointed her index finger towards her right ear. She waggled it around a bit, making a circular motion while sticking her tongue out.
“Oh,” Zeno exclaimed, noting she stood to Crates' left. “You’re deaf in one ear!”
“Correct, for once,” Crates confirmed, looking around at the festival. “Who’s playing tonight, Hippa?”
“Timotheus. But he goes by Weird Alexander now for some reason.”
“Gods, I hate that guy,” Crates boldly declared.
“Shhhh,” Hippa soothed, stroking her hobo-husband’s shoulder. “No one cares, love. No one cares.”
“He’s a traitor!”
“Shhhh, love,” she repeated. “No one cares.”
“How did you two meet?” Zeno asked.
“I saw him in a shouting match with some ladies and knew he had to be mine,” Hippa declared. “Like I said, it took some work. But I bought him, finally.”
“My sweet rhinophile comes from money and breeding,” Crates explained. “She had the world open to her. A loving family. Endless wealth. All the prospects. I couldn't have it. I won’t have that evil in my life.”
“And I won't have any of that, either. Just like I couldn't have him,” Hippa explained. “Without giving it all up. A small price to pay for the strongest man in Athens. My parents would have bought me a merchant or some athlete to torment me for the rest of my days.” She shuddered.
“Let’s get this concert over with, Hippa,” Crates begged. “My pill is kicking in.”
Hippa squealed, dragging her husband by the hand as they plunged into the crowd gathered before the stage. Zeno followed, still very much confused but drawn to these two like an Archon to an ethics violation. They both seemed so free. Free of care, free of shame, free of speech, free of money, free of everything, and they couldn't seem happier.
A strong voice rang out from the stage, melodic and entrancing, tugging at Zeno’s attention as it accompanied music, “I found an old man on the way! Hoping to find some old forgotten words or ancient melodies! He turned to me as if to say, ‘Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you!’" The music caught him up.
Zeno smiled. He thought perhaps he had found his own wise old man and a wise old woman to boot in Attica. Maybe they could lead him to happiness. Quirky? Yes. Shameless? Definitely. Gross? You could bet a dead baby on it. But wise all the same.
“It's gonna take a lot to drag me away from you! There’s nothing a hundred men or more could ever do! Zeus bless the rains down in A-a-t-t-t-i-i-c-c-a-a-a!”
What a catchy tune, Zeno thought to himself. These Athenians really knew how to religion.
“What in Hades' hairy half haunches, Timotheus?!” Crates roared over the crowd. “Everyone knows Toto blessed the rains down in Africa! Why the hell are you lying?!”
Such a fun, creative story!